Bare Bones
by JamCBlade
Summary: Continuation from "Hungry Dreams" The former spirit-eater Aneele is back in Sword Coast and in familiar territory – except the territory is no longer familiar with her.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but my undernourished elf :D

**Author's Notes:** So here we go, another story with another (possibly predictable) plot. This is the continuation from "Hungry Dreams" and so Aneele's adventures continue much to her misfortune.

**Note #2**: Thank you Anesor for betaing thins thing.

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00.

Prologue

"Your handwriting is appalling," her silky voice said from behind him.

The red-haired tiefling growled, glancing at the horned half-devil standing tall over his chair. The bell strapped to his neck chimed with his movements which only served to infuriate him more.

"If you dislike it so much, find someone else to act as your scribe-boy," he growled and then growled some more as Uni'el patted his head between his horns with affection.

"But you're the one in need of practice, my fuzzy red, pumpkin," she said cheerily, pressing her swelling bosom against the back of his neck and head, and then to add to the insult, pinched his cheek. Her narrow, black corset was covered in ribbons of such colors, it hurt one's eyes. This one loved color. Never mind that she was blinder than a bat in a desert.

Valen's tail lashed and the small bells strapped to it chimed merrily in complete contrast to his mood. But he supposed she had a point. All his life he had spent with blood up to his knees and warriors did not need words and letters to keep their tally. It was only with the Seer that he had learned the art of writing but mastered it poorly. A fact Uni'el never failed to remind him of.

"Then do not complain," he snapped, copying the letter she had dictated to him earlier. Blind as she was, Uni'el had no choice but to rely on others to do her reading and writing. It was her greatly developed mental powers that prevented people from trying to cheat on her. Not that any half-sane individual would willingly try to cheat a denizen of Baator.

As he finished writing and sealed the letters, he felt her pull away from him.

"Good," she almost purred. "Make certain those are delivered and then get ready for tonight. With the way this city is going down the drain, the crowd is certainly not going to acquire any class spontaneously," she tsked.

And didn't he know it. It fell under his duty to keep in check one half of that crowd and entertain the other. Uni'el sighed what would be a disappointed sigh, if she ever found anything disappointing at all. She was having a grand time. Especially with her latest stunt.

"How long do you plan to waste your time here then," he asked trying not to think of the night to come, "if constantly refurbishing this place costs you so much?"

Uni'el waved with her tail, long fur glittering in the warm light of her private chambers.

"Ruined or not, Luskan can bring a lot of gold if one knows how to deal with such changes." She turned to him and if her eyes had been in working order they'd have a wicked glint to them. "But if you wish, we could move back to Waterdeep. I have it on good account that situation there is quite peaceful. Quite profitable too."

Valen made a sour face, as opposed to flying into rage as it had been a few years after all. Going back to the city where Mephistopheles was defeated and enslaved – and consequently the city of his enslavement as well – was not something he ever wanted to do. He didn't know if the Seer was aware or familiar with his situation, but going back to Waterdeep and finding out was not something he could face. Not until he had the she-devil's head to show.

"Oh come now, my fuzzy pumpkin," Uni'el cooed, rubbing the base of one of his horns. "I am not a cruel person." Valen begged to differ. "As soon as your dept is paid in full you'll be as free as a jailbird."

If jailbirds could be free.

--- * * * ---

It had a large jagged rip on its side, presumably made by an axe, rendering it to near useless scrap. She had found it among tall grass of a meadow, now freely growing after the bodies of dead and undead alike had been removed.

Aneele twirled the skullcap in her hands, looking at it from all sides. It was so battered no one bothered to pick it up even for scrap metal after the battle was over.

Looking up from the object in her hands she gazed down over the field to the road that lead to the great city of Neverwinter. The city's main gate was crowded with many caravans and wagons, and the river leading up to the city docks had more than one large ship on it. In such a short time the city looked to be doing so well. It had survived the plague, the war and whatever misery might have befallen it in the meantime.

Leisurely, the elf tossed the ravaged helmet over her shoulder and headed straight for the city of Neverwinter.

--- * * * ---


	2. Employed

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but my undernourished elf :D

**Author's Notes:** This chapter is a bit on the long-ish side but it sets up things for the future. I also feel the need to mention that at this point Aneele is a 30+ epic level munchkin of sheer epicness. Don't hold it against her ;) I've also played around with invocations. I had to.

**Note #2**: Thank you Anesor for betaing thins chapter.

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02.

Employed

Pressing her lips into a thin line, Aneele tightened a black leather glove around the wrist of her bony arm as she approached the great gates. Neverwinter always had a rather negative attitude towards necromancers and undead in general, and the recent war didn't help matters. Not that she was either of those things but it would do her no good to flaunt her wound here.

She had to squeeze in between carts, loaded wagons, shouting, bartering merchants, caravan leaders, and tired dust covered soldiers who would give her dismissing looks once they've noticed her eye-patch and thin constitution. There were no doubt prettier things to look upon in any of the local taverns. Such looks did not bother her as much as she expected them to, making her feel unsure more like it; instead she turned her attention to finding a way through to the gates.

She could not say that she had ever been a frequent visitor to this city – except when her job brought her here – but she could not recall it ever being this crowded. Neverwinter was considered to be a jewel of the North. A chipped jewel of the North now – there was no telling if it would ever regain the stature it possessed once, Aneele mused, looking over the walls where steady stream of merchants was coming out and in, always showing a scroll with a seal she couldn't see from this distance.

Coming back to it was much like coming here the first time. Many things looked new and there were much more people around. Aneele remembered being in awe with the city's size, and she was also seasick and ill but no bard would tell you that. This time around, her sentiments were somewhat similar and she was not planning to stay here for long. Only as much time as it took her to gather the local gossip and to see how Duncan was doing. She promised herself that she wasn't going to go out of her way to find out what had happened with others.

That was the plan.

Except, she was barred off from entering the city.

Aneele blinked very slowly, with an expression of dumb confusion and not believing a word of what she had just been said.

"How much," she repeated quietly, "for entering the city?"

"Two hundred gold, stranger. You can either pay or get lost and not keep the line clogged," the soldier briskly snapped, gesturing with his weapon at the people without the pass behind her.

Blinking once more she turned to glance wide-eyed at the line, which was indeed long, and which she really was holding up. The elf swallowed. Now, this was not a homecoming as she had expected it. Not that she considered Neverwinter a home to begin with or anything, it was just not expected.

From what she gathered in her short time at the gates from the guards and merchants, the city was completely closed off and under martial law, allowing entrance only to those with interest in joining the merchant cartel. And even then, the fee was steep. She just didn't realize how steep they were talking about.

Curtsey of Mephasm she was very nearly broke, leaving her with only a small bag of gold to spare. A little she had planned for her to last at least for a while. Aneele could feel muscle in her jaw twitch. Worse, she could hear her stomach complain – and the crowd behind her toss more than one inappropriate word but she liked to think she was a woman enough to ignore such crude insults. How long has it been since her last decent five course meal? Back in Mulsantir. And a day spent in marching since then at least.

She chewed on her lip contemplating on ways to avoid any unnecessary expenses. She knew that hags had the ability to command people but she doubted she would be up to such a task even if the eye had healed completely. In the end, the elf caved in and paid the stupidly expensive entrance fee, much to relief of crowd behind her. She'd be lucky if she had something remaining for dinner. She really should have taken her cut from Mulsantir.

The consequences of hastily made decisions. How she knew them well.

--- * * * ---

Approximately four or five 'Move along citizen,' and twenty-seven and a half minutes of unsuccessful attempts to find a way to get to Docks later, Aneele was sitting in an inn that was not her intended destination, and rubbed her forehead – as much as she could, since it was still covered with bandages.

Due to martial law, her choice, as a paying foreigner, of districts to visit was limited to one only. The Blacklake District. The nobles' district - this was the furthest away she could possibly get from the Docks.

Aneele felt like punching something.

How many months had she spent trying to prove herself trustworthy enough to be granted entrance, and now anyone with a couple of hundred of gold coins to spare could enter. Oh, life just wasn't fair when it came to her. But she knew that already, didn't she?

As the things turned out, her only option of places to stay was the Wailing Wench Inn.

Whoever thought of that name needed to be skewered.

So Aneele went in, feeling very much like she did during Mulsantir's festival – one small elf and plenty of big humans – well, the Rashemi were bigger, didn't wear silk, and would most likely congratulate each other based on who killed the bigger troll instead of who snagged a better deal – but other than that the scene was pretty much the same.

The evening was approaching and tavern was slowly changing customers, never really getting emptier. Aneele did manage to find a table, one near the edge of the wall. Ironically, it reminded her lot of the one Bishop used to occupy frequently at the Sunken Flagon.

She managed a cold, satisfied smile.

That bastard was probably roaming the country as a zombie, or a ghost. She had no experience with resurrection spells but she didn't think it was possible to resurrect a two months old corpse. Then again she was no priest so she wouldn't know for certain.

She took off her coat and placed it on the bench next to herself. On her belt were a row of magical pouches, the Silver Sword and Myrkul's Wrath were still hidden in one of them. She didn't think she would encounter any danger that would require her overpowering weapons. She was skilled enough with her invocations now and she had confidence in her abilities. One of few things she had confidence in these days. And no, she was not going to think back on what happened yesterday or even where she was yesterday.

_Had Duncan find a replacement for Sal_, she wondered randomly, remembering Duncan's woes when his barkeeper disappeared on him. Aneele managed to smile a little remembering uncle's resigned face when Sal told him he was going to open his own tavern, in Crossroad Keep no less. And she was the one who gave him permission, no less. Ah, those were some interesting times.

There were several tavern girls gliding skillfully through the crowd serving customers. Sometimes avoiding grabby hands and sometimes walking straight into them. Of course, tavern wenches and healthy men confident in their manhood could not go without one another. Indeed, taverns everywhere wouldn't be the same without these intimate relationships.

Aneele ordered some wine and a healthy meal big enough for three grown men. It was not something a small elf would usually order and the freckled girl told her as much with just a look, but Aneele didn't care. She was still recovering and she was hungry. Rabidly so.

Efficiency shown at its best, it didn't take long for the serving girl to bring her order. The wine here was strong and of good quality, and the meat, potatoes and eggs were fresh and hot and juicy. But that was to be expected when the inn's customers were merchants eager to spend their gold celebrating a good deal.

Nibbling on her large meal she listened to any gossip or broken conversations her ears might catch.

"Aye, Banites. Just off New Leaf. Jonas was sure he saw one wearing a mark-"

"Hrmph, they'd had to be damn stupid to show it off around."

"You never know with those bastards-"

"I heard there were some shadow worshipers further south. Still holding a candle to that King o' Shadows-"

_Fun times all around,_ she thought.

But nothing was more talked about than the new trading company of mysterious origin from Sammarach, now with headquarters in Crossroad Keep. They've made the Forgotten Lords very wealthy apparently. And not a word about the Knight-Captain. Official attitude was that she was missing in action but most people believed that she was dead and gone, Nasher just refused to make it public yet.

Which explained why no one came looking for her.

She swallowed some wine.

And furthermore, it appeared that someone from the new mercantile company was offered a spot in the Nine. Her spot. Now, there was one thing she won't complain about even if it did sting a little to be replaced so easily. That made her wonder if Kana was still the one running the Keep in her absence.

_Possibly. How many others were foolish enough to manage that rundown place?_

Deep in thoughts as she was her hand still managed to snap around the wrist of an unsuspecting appendage coming relentlessly close to her pouches. Aneele's bony fingered curled around the wrist with equally bone-crushing strength. So much so in fact, that the thief turned victim cried out in pain struggling to get some freedom.

Aneele glanced up before returning her gaze to her meal. Then her head snapped back up. She found herself speechless.

"What?! You've never seen horns on a person before?"

_Too many times to count_, the elf thought absently.

"How many others have you robbed before the evening had started?" Aneele blurted out instead of answering her.

"None! Not that it's any of your business!" High pitched and very off-putting voice was followed by another painful yelp as Aneele tightened her hold. Bone cracked.

"It is when you're putting your fingers into my purse," she whispered quietly.

The thief desperately tried to free herself now. The pain had to be excruciating.

"I didn't-" she tried to negate again but that only caused another wave of pain. "Fine! I did try but you caught me," she spat out. "You don't have to take my hand off!"

"Some would," Aneele murmured but removed her hand and curled it on the table before her and paid no heed to the tiefling behind her. Someone she used to call friend. The freckled tiefling muttered and cursed as she rushed through the crowd and disappeared out the door, gathering a vial with crystal clear liquid from her belt and gulping it down in one go.

Aneele felt a cold shiver run through her.

Neeshka hadn't recognized her.

The elf couldn't have cared less.

It felt oddly liberating.

--- * * * ---

Stepping out in the evening air, Aneele took a deep breath. Dinner was good, not stale and her stomach was settled for now. The only thing now was that she was really out of money. Her last gold coin went straight for paying that delicious dinner. She didn't have enough for lodgings even.

The travesty of being poor when she had left sacks and sacks of gold back in Mulsantir… Again, not thinking about that. She had a few more essences in stock but no other ingredients to make something out of them. With the inflow of all kinds of goods in the city she doubted she'd be able to sell it anyway.

Aneele fingered her gloved bony hand. Any way she looked at it, she was broke. Perhaps she could find a band of robbers and rob them after they're done robbing some caravan. Gods knew the roads were thick with wagons, and those chasing wagons. Alternatively she thought about finding a job but she'd prefer to leave that kind decision until after she'd left Sword Coast.

Then something caught her attention. A scent she had not sensed in while. A scent of ale, cleaning rags and home. Looking around wide-eyed, she almost missed the sight of Duncan walking into the temple of Waukeen. Aneele couldn't believe her luck. Of all the days she couldn't get into any other district, he leaves the Docks. Immediately she followed him into the building.

He was dressed in fresh clothes, a highly unusual sight, and carried a big bag over his shoulder. Donations for the church? Aneele highly doubted that. The temple itself was filled with hushed voices, from low chanting to muffled business deals being sealed all around her. This truly was a center of economy.

Carefully she followed Duncan between small clusters of petitioners until she saw him stop by one of the goddess' statues. Next, she nearly tripped when she saw who else was standing there waiting for him.

It was Daeghun.

In his full traveling gear.

Aneele's bony fingers nearly dug clear into the stone of a pillar behind which she was hiding. She had not expected to see him so soon. In fact, she had not planned to see him at all.

She tried not to stare, and sat calmly in one of the available benches as if nothing earth shattering had just happened. Her eye kept leaving the goddess' statue and went to the scene before her. She could not hear them and she couldn't allow herself to get any closer since Daeghun's superior senses would pick her presence up immediately.

They looked like they were arguing. Duncan brought out a wrapped package and shook his head which Daeghun took and placed it in his backpack. He had a sword and dagger strapped at his belt and, bow and quiver slung over his shoulder. She had seen him dressed like that many times in the past, and each time it meant he would be away for at least a week. Daeghun loved his hunting trips.

The question was, what he could be hunting that made him come all the way to the city? Daeghun hated cities. He wouldn't come to one when the entrance was free let alone when he had to pay for entering.

They spoke for a few moments more before leaving the temple, together.

Slightly dazed, Aneele didn't follow them this time. She wondered what all this meant. Things have changed drastically since her last being here, as if years have passed and not months. All the knowledge she had gathered was in times of war – she didn't really know how city in peace and recovery looked like.

She sighed. Duncan was fine and dandy, Neeshka still had her hand in people's purses and Daeghun was roaming the land. As far as she was concerned things were normal for them. Today she had learned more than she had hoped, and more than she wanted to. She could continue now with her treck to Crossroad Keep.

She'll just have to make a small stop to rob the bandits first. Despite many tales, traveling was not a cheap business and she would not be getting any large meals for free. She could sleep outside. It wouldn't be any different from her nights spent in Rashemen, and it would certainly be warmer, especially with the summer approaching.

Getting up from the bench Aneele, pondered her plans concerning south and robbing the robbers to get some gold. Of course if Daeghun was out there doing the same thing then perhaps she should rethink that particular course. Then again Daeghun doing community service was about as likely as Sand hiding a heart of gold in that acidic pot he called his chest. In any case, that meant that she was camping under the stars tonight. Alone. She was likely to fall asleep and fall prey to some nightmare or another, leaving her completely exposed for any kind of attack. Aneele crossed her arms across her chest and sighed. It was all such a bother.

Stopping at what she perceived as a relatively empty corridor she started to rummage through her magic bag in search of Jerro's notes. She couldn't consider herself an expert summoner – not even a beginner really – but there had to be something here that even she could summon to serve as a guard for a few hours.

So preoccupied was she that she didn't even register the sounds of rushed footsteps or voices accompanying them. It was her body, after many months of doing nothing but anticipating enemies' moves, which reacted on reflex alone as she instinctively dropped the papers she was holding and created large sticky webs to halt the progress of whoever was on the collision course with her. It was only after the momentary silence shattered by an amused giggle and a string of curses in a language unfamiliar to her that Aneele even realized that she had turned a good portion of the hallway into a heaven on Faerun for spiders.

"Oh my…" she whispered wide-eyed.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Immediately a red dressed priest, who reminded her very much of late brother Merring and not for any of the good reasons, rushed over from the other side of the temple to her and her captive prey. A prey which consisted of three or four persons, all not happy with their situation. "You elf," he pointed at her, "are you responsible for this?"

"I- My apologies. It was a reflex," she muttered before undoing her spell letting the group of four drop soundly, metal and leather scraping the floor. She decided, for the lack of better description, to call them three creatures and a woman because she was not seeing anyone normally colored among the group of males, all grays, reds and blackish. Perhaps it would be better if she didn't stare. It was not like her company were any less colorful.

_Not thinking about that now,_ she gritted her teeth.

"Reflex?" The priest repeated as if understanding what she meant. "The war had left mark on all of us but that does not mean I will sanction the destruction of these halls."

What was she supposed to say to that? 'Don't commit sacrilege by damaging the temple' when she had already trashed the city of the dead? Then again she did just attack someone without realizing it. It was really an embarrassing situation.

_Destruction my as_s, Aneele thought, nearly pouting. All she did was summon a few cobwebs. Not even big ones. Just real sticky.

"I will endeavor not to-" she looked around for her notes only to find them in the hands of the half-drow – because dusky color of his skin and his build could mark him as nothing else – who was looking over them with curious expression and a twinkle in his eyes. She snatched the papers from his hands and sent a one-eyed glare of warning in his direction for a good measure. After a moment of confusion, a glare he matched equally. "-attack everything on sight," she finished.

The priest looked at her sternly, not looking all too pleased with her answer but nodded finally. Perhaps he'd preferred if she'd not attack anything at all – or at least not his petitioners. He nodded at the group.

"You are unhurt I hope?" The familiar tone of his voice made Aneele think that either he was well acquainted with them or that they're at least regular visitors.

The elf glanced over the recently entangled group; two men dressed in soft leather, a woman - half-elf as far as she could tell – wearing plated armor with a pink sheen, and a fire genasi – she remembered meeting some in Skien, pompous lot they were – who was wearing something she could only describe as a colorful circus tent made of silk.

"Only Mezarat's pride, Eramus," the woman chuckled, reaching over and grabbing the tall grayish-green man's chin – what was he anyway? Half-orc? "You know how he gets when something startles him."

"Hardly that," the man, Mezarat, pushed her hand roughly of his face but the girl didn't even seem to notice it and continued to grin in a wicked manner. Like she had just discovered a good joke that would last for a while.

"Well then," the priest nodded, "if nothing is broken you'll have to excuse me. I have petitioners to hear out." He gathered his robes, in what Aneele thought to be a funny way, and turned on his heal and stalked away from them.

The elf felt very much uncomfortable as she busied herself with sorting out her notes back in the book.

_And away from prying eyes_, she added silently. Was she to apologize? She didn't fell particularly apologetic. They were the ones who startled her in the first place.

"I should thank you for this surprise stranger," the woman moved forward until she practically glided into Aneele's very personally personal space. "Mezarat loosing his cool is like a leprechaun loosing his gold. Willingly," she added conspiratorially. "It was a neat trick."

"It would make sense that you would enjoy getting all tied up, Iris," Mezarat said smoothly straightening the sleeves of his white shirt, brushing off some remaining cobwebs.

Which didn't exist because she had dispelled them. Aneele's jaw tightened.

"But useful." A fire genasi pushed past between the smiling woman and his perpetually frowning comrade wearing a shining smile.

The elf tried not to use tern 'blinding' although it was difficult since she wondered how he managed not to burn things around him, clothes included. "This spell you've cast," still smiling, he inclined his head to the side where Mezarat stood, "It has quite the strength to it, do you not agree?"

Aneele didn't think so. It wouldn't be able to hold even the smallest of critters from the Shadow plane. High standards? Just realistic.

"Actually…" Mezarat started rubbing his chin, his catlike eyes clouding in thought.

Aneele did not like the sound of that 'Actually.' It promised too many things that reminded her of inevitability of the Old Owl Well, and she remembered how that one ended.

"Are you up for hire, stranger?" He asked suddenly.

"Pardon?" Aneele managed. Well, she was in need of gold but…

"We are with the Forgotten Lords Company and we have a little task to take care of, one concerning some very active worshipers of Shar."

Aneele blinked once more.

Forgotten Lords? No wait… She just had the renowned mercenaries, of the even more renowned merchant company, stuck in her webs? Weren't they supposed to be high-in-demand for their capabilities? Like, not getting caught in random webs popping out in random places.

"And?" She asked, baffled.

"Sharrans are – how should I put it? – quick on their feet. We could use someone to keep them in one place. Interested?"

Keep them still?

Oh, she knew what he meant. Monks of the Dark Moon were known to rip out your jugular before you can say 'shadow.' She just wasn't sure if she wanted to end on little black list of other gods by messing with their clergy. She had dealt with two deities already and she couldn't call it a 'positive' experience.

She needed gold but she wasn't that desperate yet.

"No, thank you," the elf shook her head before turning her back on them.

"The Forgotten Lords make sure their employees are well paid."

Tempting. But no.

"I have little desire to spend time in hunting down any kind of worshipers," Aneele said in a forceful tone, signaling, finality of her decision. Before she could leave this strange group's presence, or notice strange glances passing between them, she heard the calm voice of Mezarat.

"Hmm, I'm afraid I'll have to mention Eramus about the break after all."

Aneele frowned thoughtfully, "What break?"

"The one your ill-conceived spellcasting caused of course," he said sounding for all the world mournful as he gestured at the very large and probably very expensive too, decorative vase now lying in many tiny pieces on the carpeted floor.

"Oh dear, how did that happen?" Iris raised her hand to her lips.

"Eramus is not going to be pleased," the genasi said, quietly shaking his head.

"Not even in jest. Why last time, do you recall what happened?" Iris asked nearly whispering. The circus tent man, as Aneele imaginatively dubbed him, nodded solemnly. The half-drow just shook his head.

Aneele was flabbergasted, "I didn't-" Of course she didn't! Those webs were sticky. They held things together, not broke them to pieces! Besides, she didn't hear anything break! Breaking something as big as that would have to be loud! She didn't-

"Of course, we could generously offer to pay for it, unless you carry close to five hundred gold coins with you."

Aneele couldn't believe her pointy ears. Did he just pressure her into joining in?

"It is a good opportunity," he said grinning a grin of utter manipulation and death wish.

Why yes, yes he did.

Of all the childish things… Oh, where's the spirit-eater when you need it? But she'd give him credit that he'd managed to pull that stunt in less than a minute.

"Is that how you sell all of your goods?" Aneele asked, deadpan. "Put a knife to their throat and 'politely' persuade them to buy at the highest cost possible."

Mezarat treated her with a tight-lipped smile, "Oh, they want all I can sell, I assure you. We always come through with our deals."

What was she supposed to say to that? It was not as if she was bathing in gold so she could toss one big 'No' to his face before summoning something with many maws and just as many tentacles to eat him – which she couldn't anyway.

She who had once led an assault on Kelemvor's Gray City was now hired as a fodder by a group of pretentious low-level adventurers. Aneele pinched the bridge of her nose.

_Oh, dear Lady of Murder…_

And just in case no one recalled, she hated dungeon crawling.

--- * * * ---


	3. Letters

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but my undernourished elf :D

**Author's Notes:** Apologies for taking it a while but it took some time to hammer out some personalities. That and my Mortal Kombat obsession is back in full swing and it doesn't look like it's planning to let go of me any time soon if 100+ pages of writing are anything to go by .

**Note #2**: No beta and I'm not looking for one, so expect grammatical errors.

--- * * * ---

02.

Letters

Her dreams were not pleasant, no surprise there, but she seemed to be getting used to it now. At least she wasn't waking up all drenched up and screaming.

Aneele blinked owlishly.

The sun was shining through the window and the bustle of the city could be heard. She did not know how much she appreciated sounds of life until she was a walking dead. It actually reminded her of Mulsantir and chilly mornings where she would just want to crawl under heavy furs and sleep some more – which she usually did – until someone – usually Magda – would come and yank all her covers off.

She hadn't been there for too long, not in the sense when she could grow to care but she still managed to get attached to people and habits. There was no denying it, deep inside Ele'ena was hapless softie. A prime reason why that part of her personality had to go.

This morning, however, she wasn't feeling cold. It was Sword Coast as opposed to Rashemen but still… It was also somewhat narrow and there wasn't much space to move, which she tried when a pair of arms tightened around her. There was a very feminine 'hmmm' behind as pair of lumps pressed against her back.

"Morning sweetie…" came a groggy voice from behind her.

Aneele's red eye widened suddenly.

"Sharline?" The elf managed rapidly waking up.

"Hmmm, I told you can call me Iris," the priestess sighed burying her face between her pale shoulders. Aneele's bony arm, hidden in a long leather glove that reached and was bound around her shoulder, twitched.

"Wha… what are you doing in my bed?" Aneele asked slowly because she knew she didn't have enough wine to end up in this kind of situation with a wrong gender. Or any kind of gender for that matter.

"You had a nightmare," Sharline said soothingly running her fingers over elf's waist. "I thought you might like some comfort over night."

Elf's reaction that followed clearly shook the building, or at least the upper floor, as eldritch energies rolled off the elf.

It was at that moment that Mezarat and Alcibiades were just coming out of their shared room when the petite strawberry-blonde half-elf bounced through the door wrapped in sheets only and hid herself behind the circus-tent-wearing monk.

"But I thought you might want for someone to hold you after all those nightmares," she said from behind the genasi sounding almost mournful. Aneele stood at the doorframe, white hair and tunic rumpled from sleep and looked as she was about the burn the whole building down as her good eye flashed murder all the way.

"My nightmares are my business cleric! And you have no business crawling into my bed when it strikes your fancy."

"So only when it strikes yours?" Iris teased and quickly hid behind Alcibiades at the hiss of ice cold flames which were followed by a slamming door, possibly even unhinging them a little.

Sharline Iris Blanche turned her pleading eyes to the genasi.

"I don't think she likes me."

"There, there now," he patted her head. "You know you can always bunk in my bed," he said sympathetically.

"I can," she asked hopefully beaming up.

"Of course," he responded smiling a wide almost innocent looking smile. With her own smile she threw herself around his neck pushing them both into his rooms.

Mezarat rubbed the bridge of his nose and let out an aggravated sigh. Sometimes the conditions to work in here were impossible.

Aneele fumed, flames barely doused down. That was all she needed now, a female version of a particular half-breed with an equally raging libido and a love for pink.

"Of all the mercenary groups in Faerun you just had to stumble into one with a Sharess priestess," the elf grumbled mournfully as she yanked her protective dark turquoise tunic over her head. She hissed and mumbled curses when her long hair got caught in laces and belts.

Once she managed to push her head past the hole, hair tussled she huffed, glared at the small mirror on the dressing table, grabbed the knife and in a quick single movement flicked most of her hair off. Short in the back and slightly longer in the front, she'll no longer have struggles with clothing in the morning.

Ele'ena liked her long hair, she licked tying it up in all manner of way. Aneele didn't have patience for all that.

_Perhaps it was time for change as well_, she mused combing her now short hair. She was a changed person now.

--- * * * ---

In one of the guard houses near the gates of Neverwinter, the messenger dropped his leather bag on the desk unceremoniously and he himself dropped on the chair. The distance was not so much a problem as much as week and a half of running between various towns without rest. It seemed there was always something to report, something to carry and, most annoyingly, they always had something to add to what they've already sent.

"Long road?" the guardsman sitting at a medium sized wooden table asked offering the tired man some wine which he took and drank in one long gulp.

"Up the coast, down the coast. Heh, I think I'm making the trip more often than some of these merchants."

"Except you're not paid as much," the other man pointed out.

"Right," he said pulling out scrolls and letters from his leather bag. The guard in charge for having these delivered further looked at the small pile of assorted correspondence and whistled. He could predict some overtime work for today.

"Where from this time?" He asked looking over some of the names expecting delivery.

"Conyberry, Phandalin, Highcliff, Crossroad Keep… You'd be better off asking where I wasn't."

The guard smirked.

"Eh, what's this?" The messenger pulled out a rolled up scroll with a colorful seal neither could recognize. "I don't remember picking this up," he said sounding very much puzzled at the appearance of a message he knew it didn't pass through his hands before.

--- * * * ---

Apprehension would be one of the words Aneele would choose while coming down the stairs – the other being, 'need to murder'. Fortunately, there was no sight of priestess anywhere, only Mezarat and Quarrel who were occupying one of many tables in the inn. Aneele joined them. There was no way she was missing a good healthy breakfast when someone else was paying.

She pulled a chair and set next to them eyeing the staircase suspiciously.

"They won't be down for a while," Mezarat said.

"I thought you were in a hurry," the elf said slowly looking over the offered breakfast. Bacon, cheese, bread and butter. If she kept this up she'll put on some weight before she knew it. She considered that to be extremely good. Aneele didn't consider herself particularly vain but looking like a skeleton was not her goal.

"I am. But since our healer won't be showing up anytime soon I might as well go over the plan again," he responded calmly with barely a slightest hint of whose fault it was for Iris abducting the genasi.

Aneele shrug the implication off and took a wild guess that this kind of thing happened often enough in the past for the impatient man to get used to it. One might consider it a hazardous byproduct of employing a priestess of Sharess.

What the elf found more interest actually noticed was that his eyes were a shade darker, and his skin was of a healthier hue. Perhaps it was just a good rest, Aneele noted, and perhaps not. For the moment though, it didn't matter.

"In any case we'll have to see about equipping you. That raggedy tunic will hardly offer you any protection."

Raggedy tunic?

Aneele nearly bent the knife out of shape, feeling another involuntary summoning from the lower pits of hells happening any moment now.

This 'raggedy' tunic was made of essences of shadow and fire – both of which she had personally devoured and they tasted nicely might she add – and it made her completely impervious to fire and cold. It was plane, of nice color, kept her safe and probably cost more than all the merchants in Neverwinter together could afford. She 'did not' need a new armor.

And it was not 'raggedy'.

"No thank you," she managed through gritted teeth. He looked at her down his narrow nose and shrugged.

"Suit yourself," he said looking around. "Do you have any weapons you can use?" There was a double meaning in that, she could sense it.

_Yes and yes,_ she thought darkly, _but I'm not going to dull their blades by being your fodder._

"Bow and arrows will do," she said as an afterthought. She hoped she would get a good quality one, though she knew she could never find as good as she had made in the past. Bows so powerful their arrows would leave a crater behind. She'd never forgive Gann for selling the one she had made for him.

Her depressive line of thoughts was interrupted quite rudely when a pair of arms, again, found a way around her shoulders. Aneele quite spectacularly dropped her fork and knife.

"Oh honey, I could have done that for you…" Iris said reaching for Aneele's short locks. Aneele squeaked and pulled the half-elf's hands away.

"Well that's very unfriendly of you," she sighed taking a seat in an empty seat patting the chair next to her for Alcibiades to sit. The way Quarrel ignored the whole scene told Aneele in no uncertain terms that he had been through whole experience. She guessed it was her turn now. She made a mental note to leave this group as soon as possible.

Aneele's closed her eye, "You haven't seen me unfriendly yet."

Iris opened her mouth to say something she would no doubt regret considering elf's surprisingly violent temper but Alcibiades cut in.

"Would you mind telling us where you're from? It would be interesting to know more," The genasi asked, all smiles and sunshine compared to relatively dour Quarrel and Mezarat. Aneele was of opinion that this group had two spectrums of emotions, cheerful and grumpy, and no happy middle.

"Rashemen," she answered. It wasn't a lie exactly. She did come from the far east, she just wasn't 'originally' from there. "I only recently came to Sword Coast."

"That had to take you months of traveling."

Not with exceptionally fast and efficient teleportation devices from depths of hells.

"It was quick enough," Aneele said avoiding answering anything in relation to her method of travel. She did not like the way Quarrel had been looking at her notes yesterday, and she liked even less hidden glances he's been throwing in her direction this morning. She suspected he had guessed her occupation. Nothing like two warlocks to raise the tension while sorting out the order of seniority.

"What about your company?" She asked instead. "People talk highly of you. Or talk a lot, at least."

With a collective side order of grins – it was good to know that their egos work well next to all that manipulativness – Alcibiades launched into a fairly descriptive account of one called Zehir and their part in his downfall.

Aneele would probably find the tale very interesting were it not for the fact that by the end of it they've fought off a would-be-god. She herself had devoured one and led an assault on another. It looked like there was serious lack of inventiveness in adventuring business. She was actually worried that by the end of this she'll find another god to insult, fight and most likely, get killed by.

The elf still couldn't fathom why so many found the allure of adventure, where death loomed at every corner of previously unexplored ruin, so difficult to resist. If people were so keen on dying there were perfectly good ways to get killed without being chewed to death by undead.

As the tale drew to the end so did their lengthy breakfast.

"You can continue the story along the way if you feel like to," putting his empty glass of wine down Mezarat said to the genasi. Sharline let out a pouty sigh. She had just gotten up. "We still need to pick up some supplies and the ride will take a good part of the day," he continued ignoring the half-elf.

Sharline huffed but then her face brightened, "Shopping it is then!"

--- * * * ---

After a short stop to the trading post and it was a short stop since Aneele picked her weapon of choice quickly enough, a good quality longbow as she had planned, and had no need of anything else. The rest of the group had already prepared for the trip earlier on.

Outside, while crossing over the small plaza, a man nearly rushed into them and both Aneele and Quarrel had to sidestep to avoid collision damage involving an official of Neverwinter court and a stitched together group.

"Sir Nevalle! Sir Nevalle!"

Aneele glanced at the man running up to the knight, dressed in familiar blue, someone she remembered very well and had no fond memories of. She saw the runner handed him something but her group was already leaving the Blacklake district and she followed them out of the city.

--- * * * ---

"Bandits?" Aneele asked arching an eyebrow. They have been riding for a few hours now but from what she had been told it would take them a while before they reached the cave where the Sharrans were. "Aren't they everywhere these days?"

"Yes and no," Alcibiades started to explain in a very scholarly manner. "Most of them are not connected, smaller gangs easy to deal with. Sometimes however, appears a well organized band, too well organized. It usually means they have a sponsor or connections in the right places."

"We had a similar situation several weeks back," Iris joined in. "A bandit group in league with Zehir's cult had terrorized the countryside around New Leaf. Plenty of people died. Even more goods got stolen."

"And you believe Sharrans are now doing the same thing?"

"Similar, yes. Sa'Sani had been expecting a special delivery from this direction while now. It never arrived. But curiously enough, there are no reports of other caravans gone missing in this area," Alcibiades looked very much puzzled by the whole matter.

So basically, Sa'Sani got sick of waiting and had sent her menagerie to get the 'item' for her.

Aneele wanted to ask how they could be sure it was this cult's fault but decided against it. Even if the Sharrans had nothing to do with it Mezarat and others looked determent enough to clear out that enclave in any case.

"Are there many such small cults around?" Aneele asked instead remembering Malar worshipers she had encountered in Rashemen. Those too were few but relentless in their hunt. Then again, perhaps all of Malar's priesthood is like that.

"They keep appearing, fighting among each other or against anyone else and disappear. Unless they manage to plant their roots and thrive. It doesn't happen often with so many young adventurers seeking glory."

"Or unless there is something bigger to worry about," Aneele commented quietly.

"Excuse me?" Alcibiades turned his head at her.

Aneele shook her head, "Nothing."

Hours later they've dismounted some distance from the cave entrance. Her knowledge of reading tracks was minimal but it looked like it wasn't used by any animals and there were small, barely visible signs of human travel.

"I cannot guarantee you'll be able to move," the elf said quietly as they entered the cave.

"Worry not," Iris chuckled dragging her metal covered fingers through heavy locks and Aneele noticed faintly glittering earrings of distorted shape. "I have that covered."

Aneele tilted her head and shrugged. If she said so.

Ahead of her Mezarat pulled out a scroll and as he read it, the spell equally darkened the cave and unsealed the door and he just barely nudged them open without making a sound, just enough to take a quick look inside. There were five of them inside he gestured to the others and then looked at the elf.

Aneele nodded and crept closer taking his place at the door. With a quick look inside she calculated how much power she would have to draw on to immobilize the enemy completely.

There were at least two priests of unknown rank in there, two acolytes and another armored man. Placing her hand on the floor she concentrated on summoning her eldritch powers, shaping it into desired spell.

Even if they had noticed someone tampering with their hidden door they had no time to react when massive spider webs spread across the large room, covering walls, ceiling, floor and clinging to the worshipers within.

The others rushed in, protected from entanglement through previous preparation. Iris' work no doubt.

Aneele stood in the back concentrating on tightening the webs around the priests. She did not wish to give them any chance to do anything that might disrupt her hold on the other three enemies. Before any of her companions even reached the entangled enemies her arrows were the first to find their unprotected necks.

Two arrows and two hits later two dead priests of Shar hit the ground. Looking around Aneele let the others take care of the remaining acolytes. She sincerely doubted that they could prove more problematic than those trolls from Ashenwood.

Iris was wielding her spear like a seasoned warrior while Alcibiades, surprisingly enough, was taking on his opponent with bare hands. And he was enjoying greatly it by the looks of things.

As the final dark moon worshiper fell Aneele removed hold on her spell and cleared the room. Immediately Mezarat searched the bodies. After a few short moments he straightened and rubbed his face before shaking his head.

"It would make sense they didn't hold it. Perhaps it's held by the head priest of this place."

"Unless he had left," Iris commented.

"He'd better not," Mezarat hissed and pressed on making Aneele wonder why would anyone be more concerned if the Sharras had left rather than be relieved by the prospect. There was always a possibility that they have left whatever they have stolen – if it were them in the first place. Unless it was something pocketsize. Whatever it was that the cultists took had to be important.

"There is probably a shrine in here somewhere. We should look there."

To Mezarat's misfortune they did indeed find the shrine empty.

"It's surprising that the head priest of this enclave is not here," Sharline said. "It certainly doesn't fit their image to run away like cowards."

"I don't think he was here to begin with," Quarrel said gesturing at the empty altar. "It doesn't look like the rites have been performed a while now."

"We can use this opportunity to look around," Alcibiades said. "Perhaps we'll find something."

Mezarat nodded and Aneele could see his jaw clench tightly. With that, the others spread out around the small complex in search for whatever they were sent here to retrieve, leaving Aneele in the nearly empty room. She approached the stone altar table. It looked solid enough, and strangely empty of any necessities for conducting rituals.

Running her fingers across the seemingly smooth surface she felt five small indentations roughly the size of man's fingertips. A very fine line made a circle above them, a place for a key she presumed. Aneele cracked a smile, some things never changed. The altar was, is and will always be a preferred place for priests to put their valuables.

Using her boney hand Aneele dug her fingers into the grooves and with a groan of protest from the stone pulled the hidden compartment open, but instead of it containing precious items it was filled with letters and scrolls. Some neatly folded and stacked, other, more recent ones, messily tossed across. She had recognized few seals of other organizations, Banites, Malarites too, Thayans and – at this her eyes narrowed – Hosttower.

So they were still as active as ever.

There was not much of interest for her there until, while going over a few words she spotted the words 'devour of souls' and immediately latched onto that letter. She got only as far as few lines before hearing commotion in the corridor. The elf quickly pocketed the letter – perhaps she could make more sense of it later – before closing the compartment and stepping away from the desk.

Just in time too because Mezarat walked by the door and looked inside. Narrowed slits eyed her carefully but Aneele just returned it evenly.

"Did you find something of interest to you?" He asked.

"No," Aneele said quietly moving past him. He frowned, looking unconvinced but the room and the altar still stood empty. Mezarat's obsessive search for whatever his boss had lost was none of her concern. She had other things to think about.

'Devourer of souls.' Another way to call the spirit-eater. She had barely got rid of it and already she encountered that name again. Why? She'll have to study the letter in greater detail later.

Outside the shrine, in the first room where they fought, she met up with Sharline who was busying herself with stripping the corpses clean of any potential valuables, be they magical or shiny. Aneele felt strangely unmotivated for any kind of pillaging. She was shaken by the letter.

"Everything all right honey?" Sharline asked twirling a golden bracelet around her forefinger before skillfully pocketing it. Aneele just nodded not being in the mood for any further conversation. The priestess pressed her lips together but didn't press things at the moment, for which the elf was very grateful.

The others looked through the place and adjoined rooms. She saw Mezarat walked by, not looking a bit pleased. Aneele looked at him strangely.

"He is really obsessed with finding that letter," Iris said stepping up to the elf, one hand on her hip and holding her spear casually.

"Letter?" Aneele asked puzzled. They were here for a letter. How utterly strange.

The half-elf nodded, "Apparently, otherwise he'd be ransacking the storage room with Alcibiades and Quarrel."

"And what a storage room it is," Alcibiades announced his presence as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Have you found it?" Mezarat asked turning around scowling.

"No, but you'll never believe what we did find," Alcibiades said smiling and gestured for them to follow him down the side corridor where the sight of a large man holding Quarrel easily up in the air by the throat greeted them.

"Ribsmasher," Aneele muttered looking at the laughing man who in size could compete with any Rashemi. She made a grimace. "Lovely."

--- * * * ---


	4. Pricy

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but my undernourished elf :D

**Author's Notes:** I'm baaack!! No, I did not catch the Dragon Age flu but the 'Professor wants those papers done now or you can kiss the school goodbye' flu. Not so exciting really. Anyway, we continue, with shorter chapters too. Which means less work for me and more story for you.

**Note #2**: I apologize for any errors and rough/chunky writing. It's been a while and I need to get back in shape.

--- * * * ---

03.

Pricy

'_It cannot be said with absolute certainty that these two cases are related though remarkable similarity remains between two items. Though the soul devouring creature is but a myth the appearance of Silver Sword is quite common actually. My source of information believed that is all but such trivial lies can easily be overcome. Naturally, the cost for further investigation shall increases accordingly…'_

Rubbing her chin Aneele put down the scrap of paper, further interest in the content lost. So it was not the Spirit-Eater they were after but the Gith's sword, if she understood the letter correctly.

It looked like the sword was really popular in certain crowds, she smirked thinly. It also made dangerous for her to stay in one place for long. She didn't use it, nor had she any plans to do so, but all the same she didn't like the idea of some powerful magic user sniffing it out even in her magical pouch.

Aneele folded the letter and placed in the pocket of her coat – she also made a note to get rid of it soon – and sighed. When they stop in the next town she should insist on getting paid, buy some supplies and maps for further journey before putting the Sword Coast behind her.

Then, behind her, she heard a branch give way and turned her head to see now clean sheen of pinkish armor Iris wore. The elf resisted to make a sour face. Iris and her did not start on a good footing since that abrupt morning. It would be more understandable for those who were aware how little interest Aneele had in the whole touchy-feely business. The very same touchy-feely business being the tools of the trade for the priestess of Sharess.

"All alone out here? Are you hiding from our little group I wonder? Or just the chores?"

"No on all accounts," Aneele rolled her shoulder keeping an eye on the woman as she gracefully sat next to her. "Your little group has a hard time accepting anyone in their little circle."

Iris chuckled, "I suppose that's true enough."

"How long have you been working together?" Aneele asked truly interested. The elf had hard time believing that people so similar would get together by whims of fate.

"Hmm, you're asking if we have forever been beguiling unsuspecting travelers into walking in death traps while we sit outside the whatever dungeon waiting for the horrible scream to signal safe passage?"

"Something like that."

"We work that well together, don't we?" The half-elf inquired with a small smile to her round lips. Aneele didn't answer. "I'd love to say yes, but…no. No, we've quite accidentally boarded the same sinking ship. From there our small group just took its natural course."

"Every men for himself?"

Iris laughed. "Indeed. But while our goals might be different we share strikingly similar methods to achieve them."

Manipulative little group of scumbags.

"And Quarrel?" She pressed on.

"You cannot deny that there are similarities between us, don't you think?" Aneele shook her head. "Ah, well… What about you then?"

"What about me?"

"Well, there's that arm, for example?"

Ah. So the priestess could not resist the temptation and had looked while she was asleep. Let that be a lesson to her regarding sharing her room with anyone.

"There's nothing special about it," Aneele murmured.

"A secret then? You don't have to say anything if you do not wish to. I merely found it…" the priestess paused thoughtfully searching for the right and not all too insulting word, "…unusual."

"It is not a secret," Aneele flexed her hand.

"No? Then you wouldn't mind me asking what happened?"

"A war wound. It was either this or I loose an arm completely."

"A war? The most recent one?" Aneele did not answer. Perhaps he had even said too much. "And you opted for showing bones? Brave," the priestess complimented her, but to her ears it did not sound as such. Aneele shrugged. She didn't choose anything considering she was unconscious during the operation Nefris had performed.

Across the wind the subtle sent of cooked food reached the two women and Aneele raised her head sniffing at the aroma. It made her stomach rumble in anticipation. She was turning into such a glutton they would be better off bribing her with food.

"Ah, it looks like Alcibiades is cooking again," Iris noted. "That man really loves his luxury." Aneele frowned lightly, he did look a bit too refined to be on the road, genasi or no.

The half-elf pulled herself to her feet and Aneele followed her.

"Let us head back before Mezarat's secret passion for bread soaked with hot potage costs us our dinner," Iris said with a secret grin, one that probably related to some humorous event in their mutual past.

"Mezarat has secret passions? I was more of an impression that he was a cold-blooded snake."

Iris gave the elf a most peculiar look. "That is a surprisingly good description of him. What made you think of that?"

"Because… he acts like one," Aneele replied somewhat baffled. It was an odd question. If she had been asked Aneele would have a hard time remembering anyone calculating as he.

Iris' lips spread into a wide, almost dazzling smile, "You are quite right. He does come off too controlling. I shall reprimand him so he could correct his aloof behavior."

Aneele didn't really think such thing was possible but said nothing.

Later that night, much like on any other, nightmares came to her. Loud and uncontrollable, sweeping at her like a hurricane, with faces of Akachi's past, and laments of the Wall. She would never forget it - who she was slowly slipping away in the Wall, while her body rotted on the outside even as she struggled to find the cure. Not even the trials and battle with the old Illefarn construct could not match such horror.

It was not death that bothered her but the memories of emptiness she carried, and emptiness had become a lot more frightening since the return of her emotions.

Each night though the terror was the same, there were different aspects to it. Tonight she had felt hands latching onto her, preventing her from moving, seeing or screaming. It terrified her.

She had woken up early enough to take the final watch, before morning once again drenched in sweat and with pulled grass between her fingers. She was told that the nightmares would eventually go away, except they have never told her how long exactly she would have to endure them.

--- * * * ---

She had recognized this road.

"Are we heading to Highcliff?"

"Yes. We have to stop at the outpost there for the gold. Your payment, if you'd remember," Mezarat said. He didn't look a least bit happy. And the only thing that worried Aneele now was that perhaps he'd try to refuse to pay her due to technicality of not retrieving said 'item'. "Are you worried that I might shortchange you?"

"It has crossed my mind," Aneele frowned at his perceptiveness. It has been a while since anyone was able to read her like that. She couldn't say she liked the thought. But in all honesty she should have asked for her gold in advance.

He had to notice her discomfort as he smirked, "You shouldn't be so paranoid. I have a good habit of paying a hard working employee."

"Except when they don't survive your expectations."

"Well, then they were not good enough to be paid, now were they."

_Good logic. _And one she agreed with.

Ahead she noticed Alcibiades smiling. That didn't have to mean anything seeing how he always wore a smile. She still hasn't decided if that was a good or a bad thing. Out of all of them the always smiling Alcibiades had to be the one most difficult to read.

They have been riding for most of the day with only a couple of stops to rest the horses, and many caravan wagons have passed them. Aneele was riding last in the line. For once she was just trying to enjoy the scenery when Quarrel slowed his horse until he was riding next to her.

"Those were Jerro's notes," he said not looking at her. Aneele tried not to react.

So he did recognize them. Did it mean that he knew Jerro as well? And if so, what else did he know?

"And?"

"You don't deny it?"

"Is there any reason I should?"

His eyes narrowed.

"How do you know him? And why would a man such as he give you most if not all of his research notes?"

Aneele glanced at him sideways, "You'd be better off asking him that. I have no insight in his motivations."

"And I would find him in Rashemen then?" He questioned with challenge in his voice. Now Aneele turned to him, her red eye narrowed under white hair.

"It could be one of the places where you might find him. If you do know Jerro as you claim to, then you should be aware that he doesn't stay in one place for long."

He looked away.

"I was not his student for long. Soon he had… other matters to deal with."

"I'd imagine that defeating the King of Shadows is more important than whatever pupil he had picked up along the way," Aneele remarked it returning her eye to the green of the landscape. Cruel or not, it was the truth Jerro had guided himself with.

He looked furious and wasn't able to conceal it. She could not tell if he was getting ready to cast a spell on her or ride off.

"As per his words, he gave me his notes because he respected my strength. Make of that what you will," she said quietly. Those words seemed to calm him down and the rest of the trip passed in silence, at least as Quarrel was concerned.

The gates of Highcliff had a fair share of wagons, though nothing like she had seen in Neverwinter. And by the sound and looks of it, the port below also had its share of ships.

They've stopped at the tavern. It had people coming and going through widely open door with music coming faintly from the back of the room. Mezarat however, moved on, heading towards the building their company's outpost was based. Aneele had to wonder why the need to go this far for payment when the outpost in Neverwinter was much closer. She wouldn't pretend she knew anything about merchants but she suspected it had something to do with their unsuccessful trip north.

Again, so long she got paid it was none of her concern.

Aneele looked around recognizing the place. This was the same tavern she had visited with Khelgar, Neeshka and Elaane. It involved fish food, pinched tails, belching dwarves and rowdy barmaids. Looking back, it was quite a ridiculous situation she had found herself in, and she didn't mean that in a comedic sort of way.

At least everything looked the same. There were perhaps even more customers than she last remembered, likely due to increase in trade and decrease of lizardmen and undead.

Inside she followed Alcibiades, and noticed Quarrel tossing a conspicuous glare or two in her direction. His jealousy was slowly starting to irritate her. The boy – and she used that loosely because he had to be more than a few years older than her – needed to learn to let matters go.

"Aneele I must introduce you to someone," the Iris said suddenly holding onto Aneele's arm with a surprisingly tight grip and pulling her to where the bar was. A bar which was quite occupied for the time of the day. "Do you remember how you've said you'd like to hear more of local gossip since the war?"

"I might have mentioned it." She was interested to know what had happened in the meantime, and having someone tell her a full tale instead of catching bits and pieces of gossip would have been nice. At her approach a man with sandy colored hair neatly tied at the base of his neck and with a lute on his belt, turned and offered a smile, not unlike the kind Gann was capable of presenting. Instantly, Aneele decided she didn't like him. Too much of a show off.

"This lovely gentleman goes by the name Finch," Iris grinned. "And, if you're looking to hear any and every tale of the coast, sung or hushed, this here is your man!"

The bard gingerly took the priestess' armored hand to land a perfect quick kiss.

"You flatter me my lovely lady, but I'd be lying if I'd say it wasn't so."

"He's modest too," Aneele noted levelly.

"And this must be the latest fly caught to your web," the bard grinned seizing the elf up. Thin frame covered with a large tunic and coat did not do much for first impression.

"The other way around in fact," the priestess grinned. "Imagine, she had actually managed to get Mezarat all tied up to a wall. Ah, to have such powers…"

Aneele blinked, "Is that supposed to be a feat?"

Iris let out a merry laugh, "Beside the fact that he would never allow himself to be caught like that and a healthy bruising of his ego, no, not really." She looked around, her thick hair curling with the quick motion. "Ah, you'll have to excuse me. I must make sure our funds are not all sunken into delicacies," with a small wave Iris all but floated across the floor.

"She's still capable of having her own way no matter what the situation," Finch mused.

"You traveled with them?" Aneele asked when the priestess was gone.

"Only for a short while. Mezarat can be quite the harsh taskmaster," he absently rubbed his forearm. "But seeing how you've managed to put one on Mezarat I feel obliged to help," he said with a grin. "So, what tales can I spin for you?"

"The Keep. I know it had survived the attack of undead hordes but I've left soon after. What has become of it?"

"You are not from around these parts if the most recent and widespread news eludes you?"

"I wouldn't say so," she responded taking a seat at the bar. The bartender gave her a large mug of ale, much like everyone was drinking. She was a bit worried that it would be a bit too much for her.

"Now, that is a popular subject these days," he exclaimed in an excited manner. His fingers even brushed across his lute in an anticipation of a song. "With Sir Khelgar in charge the keep had recovered rather quickly. Who'd have thought that a dwarf has enough sense to organize it all, eh?"

"Sir Khelgar?" Aneele asked in disbelief, some of her old personality peeking through. "Short, round, loves to throw people out the window. That Khelgar?"

"You'd be surprised what the politics of Neverwinter can do to a man," the bard chuckled. "But it is the Lady of the Keep who draws the most attention."

Aneele frowned. She was?

"How so?"

"With the Knight-Captain rumored dead many bards seek to get as much as information as possible of the late Lady."

"Can't they make something up?" Aneele asked. Finch looked insulted and hurt to his musical core.

"My dear lady, we never 'make up' things. We merely make the story easier on the ears."

Overactive imagination was the mother of all their tales.

"But no one can tell much about late Lady of the Keep, and what they can tell can become contradicting," Finch exiled in mock defeat. Aneele hopped he didn't see her roll her eye. Yes, Ele'ena wasn't exactly coherent most of the time. Constant running away not included.

"I can imagine that would be a problem," Aneele said taking a sip of her ale. She would say it was a bit watered down but she had little taste for alcohol so she did not let it bother her. Other customers on the other hand…

"So, many are on the search for Knight-Captain's rumored diary."

Aneele hastily swallowed, "They're what-?!" She prayed she had misheard.

"Oh yes, it would fetch a tidy sum. And from what I've heard it has already been tried to 'borrow' it, so to speak," he said grinning and taking another sip. Aneele was horrified.

"And have they, you know, succeeded…?" She asked weakly. The thought of anyone reading her old diary, filled adolescent garbage and embarrassing situations from daily life of Knight-Captain and her former companions was too terrible to even imagine. And if the bards caught whiff of her childish crush on Sand…

"No such luck I'm afraid. It looks like she was bit paranoid in life."

_For a good reason obviously,_ she thought gripping tightly at the mug.

"Door and windows are barred with powerful magic. And after last unsuccessful attempt to break in that dwarf, Khelgar, posted extra guards on the top floors," he laughed and looked around, his eyes sparkling and grin wide. "Now, as for other equally interesting gossip…" he kept talking but Aneele wasn't listening.

Biting her lip the elf came to a conclusion that there was a book that had to disappear.

Tomorrow.

She emptied her mug in a single swallow.

_Sweet Lady of Murder, I did not sign up for this._

--- * * * ---


	5. Thievery

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but my undernourished elf :D

**Author's Notes:** I suppose a heartfelt 'Sorry' wouldn't help me here? No, I guess it wouldn't. Anyway, onward!

**Note #2**: I apologize for any errors and rough/chunky writing. It's been a while and I need to get back in shape.

--- * * * ---

04.

Thievery

Opening her eyes she could say, in all honesty and truly, goodbye to reverie and elven way of resting, as she was well sure of it. What she wasn't sure was which option was worse – relieving nightmarish memories nightly in great detail or having her imagination twist already hellish images into nightmares of unimaginable proportions. At least, and as far as she knew, reverie would offer sanctuary of damnable dreamwalkers and their persistent prodding. And if half of sensations, shouts and broken sentences that were not of her own making meant anything, then the hagspawn was doing one hell of a job in trying to break through her nightmares to try and establish contact.

'_Of course he was. Who else would be insane, stubborn and relentless enough not take __**no**__ for an answer and try enter __**my**__ head,'_ she thought frowning. She didn't remember much from tonight's escapades in the dreamland, maybe the ale helped a bit but she wouldn't bet her nonexistent gold on it. A pity that distance meant little in dreams.

Shaking sleep from her eyes and trying not to think of the blue incarnation of confusion in her life, she finally pulled herself up to sitting position in the small narrow and thankfully empty bed, and looked through the window. The sun was yet to come up and a pale blue line streaked the horizon. Still, few voices could be heard – sure sign of town waking up.

As there was no more point to going back to sleep – she would only end up in the same place, frustrated and tired – she pulled her clothes on she stepped out of the inn. Careful not to wake up some of the patrons still dotting an occasional table, puffs of hot air came out of her mouth as she stood in the near empty street looking at the slowly waking town. Her mind was subtly empty when someone addressed her.

"I didn't know we had an early bird in the group," a statement, coming from now a familiar voice and Aneele turned to look at Mezarat. Pants, shirt, leather belts with his swords and all looked so pristine as if he'd never step outside stone-lined streets of the city. The man carried himself with such confidence she had not experienced since… she'd say last night but that would be only half the truth.

She had learned since the cave and Sharrans that he had quite the way with words. Still, she had seen him on edge, unnerved. He was not someone she'd want to be left alone in the room with. Words or swords, he made sure both were always kept sharp. Truth to be told, Aneele wasn't sure she'd even put him into group with the rest of the men, or elves really. And the way his skin had a slightly different hue every time the light changed didn't help her when trying to understand him.

"You are up as well," she noted keeping a constant eye contact with him. His own group, Sharline and Alcibiades at least, seemed to find him trustworthy enough. She, as an outsider, had less reason to do so.

"Company work," he intoned taking a sure step closer, hand reaching for one of his pockets. "Here," he dropped the bag in her hand. "Two hundred coins. Just as we agreed." Aneele's fingers closed around the pouch, feeling the coins shift inside. It was just as much as she had lost at the gates of Neverwinter. Greedy city. "I'm surprised you haven't asked for more when you knew you could," he added after a moment studying her.

She knew alright. Aneele glanced up at him, "You're worried that I'm underpaid?"

He snorted, "Hardly. Bad reputation from unsatisfied employees is my concern."

"Oh?" She frowned a little, "I thought there would always be fools willing to work for scrap."

"Fools are to be used and disposed. They are a one time deal. I don't need them. Capable individuals are what I am after." He looked at her now, down his nose, his pale eyes and usually grayish skin, had a most peculiar sheen in morning light, "But if you insist to portray yourself as one…"

Aneele felt anger bubble up. "Don't worry. The only rumors I'll be spreading is about your friendly personality, not the lack of gold." He smirked, not an ugly thing to behold – mesmerizing came to her mind. "Do we leave for Keep today?" She asked instead.

He arched an eyebrow, "And here I thought you were done with us."

Aneele gave a small shrug at his mocking, "I have not seen the Keep since the war," which admittedly wasn't all that long ago but she hoped no one would bring such short absence on her part and how any news regarding that place should have reached her ears by now. "I'd… like to see what had become of it." It was as good as reason as any. No doubt people were seeking passage to there for far less of a motive than she.

The sound of thundering hooves cut in through their conversation and both turned to see a horse of light tan color and a horseman who looked like he had just ridden through ranks of undead to reach this town. She could tell that much as she had witnessed such thing before.

"Is something going on?" She asked looking at the man jumping down from his tired mare and rush into the local garrison office.

"Sharrans weren't the only cult to cause problems," his low voice sounded next to her and her eye switched to him where he crossed his arms across his chest. "Too many had sprung up lately."

"Alcibiades said so but I thought they would usually be weeded out quickly."

"Cultists are tricky to deal with, and few posses necessary skill to deal with them successfully," Mezarat explained seriously. "The guards sent from Nverwinter or from the Crossroads Keep, for instance, are there primary to secure the roads. Anything beyond that is not their concern."

Sifting through this information Aneele came to conclusion that might be the reason why she saw Daghun up and about roaming the countryside in full hunting gear. He was never enamored in the idea of malignant people and their dark forces disturbing his peace.

"And your group? Aren't you skillful enough?"

"If we're paid enough," he said in a tone that was self-explanatory and Aneele nearly rolled her eye. Of course. Profit. That made the world turn today. Mezarat shook his head, "But even with that the company keeps us too busy with other assignments to run around sticking our nose into every barrow."

They were wanted mercenaries, and they came with a high price. But they already served someone. Aneele nodded.

The golden glow of the sun had covered them both by now.

"We will leave for the Keep in an hour. If you wish to come along, feel free." Again his lips spread into a smirk, "Sa'Sani might even convince you to sign a longer contract." He was looking at her with such calculation the elf felt like a meat on hook.

"I do not think I'd fall for another veiled blackmail," she grumbled dejected.

It wasn't a full-blown laugh, more of a chuckle but to her ears it had the same effect. His eyes, strangely narrowed, held a wicked gleam.

"A blackmail will only work if the one being blackmailed believes in consequences and fears the repercussions. Be that they are of their own making or not." He stepped away, bowing his head a little even, and walked back towards the inn. That trice damnable gleaming amusement never leaving his face.

Aneele's mouth opened in a round 'o' before closing.

They've had her there. They've had her good.

--- * * * ---

After breakfast, which was much better than she remembered it to be during her first visit to Highcliff, they've set on course to Crossroads Keep. Fortunately enough, the Keep was only a short distance away from the port town. It was still distance enough to give Aneele anxious feeling in her stomach. Bats rather than butterflies, and not all from her morning talk with Mezarat. A talk which, if nothing else, thought her how gullible she was. She had already spilt milk here and all she could do about that was be more careful in the future.

She wasn't so much worried about showing her face in the Keep. Honestly, what were the chances that she might be recognized? No, it was more the fact that she will have to find a way inside the castle, up to the top floors, sneak inside her old room without drawing attention or alerting the guards. Sneaking had never been her strong point but she would have to make do somehow.

Than, as they rounded a hill, the Crossroads Keep came into view.

In a not so subtle sign of surprise, Aneele's jaw went slack. A second time today.

What on Toril have they done with her Keep?!

Granted, she was never enamored in it to begin with but this before her was no longer a castle. There were stalls and wagons, flow of people chatting with guards much like they did at gates of Neverwinter. This was a stone made market place! With colors. And ribbons! All it needed was dancing bears. Colorful dancing bears. Okku, coming to her mind, would fit right in.

"Quite the sight, isn't it?" Sharline chuckled right next to her. She had to be highly amused with elf's gaping expression. "This sight never fails to make newcomers drool."

"I-…" Words refused the leave her throat and from properly.

Alcibiades sighed all shades satisfied with their work, "And another person falls into pit of awe for what our company had done for this place."

Yes, she was in awe how a derelict war-made castle could turn into a bazaar in such a short span of time.

They passed under the gates. As often as they came and went, guards barely gave them a glance. In the courtyard were many stalls – she could compare it to Mulsantir but the competition here was really out to crush each other – each bearing a sign from the town it hailed from. Along were goods they produced – some common, other exclusive. Her nose wrinkled when she was hit with the familiar odor of West Harbor mead. Did they export it widely now?

"Will you come with us?" Sharline asked moving close to the elf, arm sliding around her waist. "Another rich contract awaits right behind those doors, and we could surely use someone skillful at tying people up such as yourself," the half-elf pointed at the at the heavy wooden entrance leading to trading company from Samarach. Mezarat let out a barely noticeable twitch. Only for that he'd be glad to be rid of the elf.

"…No." Aneele answered quickly pulling away. "Company life isn't for me." Too unscrupulous now that she had a soul. Besides, she had other things to look forward to.

"Well," Sharline shrugged languidly turning to follow her companions. She offered a small wave and a wink before disappearing inside, "We'll be right here, should you change your mind."

'_So long as there's gold involved, I'll bet they will.'_

--- * * * ---

She had been observing the guards stationed at the entrance of the castle itself for a few hours now; archers pacing along the wall and towers. She even dared to take a step in to the great hall where many petitioners were waiting for their turn to see Sir Khelgar. Aneele had to swallow a smile forcibly otherwise she'd grin like a fool for the rest of the day. Sir Khelgar. The most amusing thing she had heard since coming here.

She didn't see him but did hear his deep voice rumble through the hall, be it cursing or reluctantly giving orders. She had noted with some sadness that he had stopped throwing people out headfirst – personally that is.

Nevertheless, taking a short walk inside gave her an idea. A first good one in a while.

As Aneele stepped out from the castle, she firmly collided with a familiar face from the road. A dusty gray face to be precise. Aneele rubbed her nose and glared a one-eyed glare of red pits at the young part-drow.

"Are you stalking me now?" She hissed feeling very much on the defensive. She had a lot of unresolved issues with people taking interest in her. Especially since in all those cases the interest proved fatal for her.

"Looking for you," he answered stiffly and looked around quickly. As they were blocking the doors he grabbed her elbow and pulled her to the side, away from the dirt path and further down into the crowd. While uneasy with his manhandling she didn't object until they were away from eyes of armored men.

"There better be a good reason for it," the elf snapped pulling her arm away.

He swallowed, sensing the smaller warlock's energies bundle up but then gathered the courage and spewed it out quickly, "I wish for you to teach me." The way he said it he might have referred to severe abdominal pains.

"That is defiantly not a good reason," the wide-eyed elf responded immediately. She couldn't teach a dog to bring back a stick. A student of her own was out of the question.

"And why not? You seem to know much," – not a damn thing actually, Aneele thought – "And the road can't teach me a thing."

All she knew she had learned on the road. And she wanted to tell him that, but an idea occurred to her. "How long have you been staying in the Keep, with the company?" She asked.

"A couple of months now," he grunted.

"And have you heard stories about the castle, its inhabitants?"

"A few. Why?" Quarrel frowned looking at her skeptically. It was her now who was prying information out of him and not the other way around as it should be.

"A favor for a favor," she said then swallowing. She prayed this would work. She prayed he wouldn't get suspicious. She prayed that **she** was still there. "I will teach you some things… a few, if you tell me about the giant spider who used to live in the castle."

--- * * * ---

'_It lookes like she hadn't spawned any children yet.'_

Aneele looked around the dark cave through her darkvision. She spotted bats, small critters, and even medium sized game in the webs, some leftovers from previous meals too. It was never a pleasant sight, large sticky cocoons with cold dead half-eaten creatures in them, all neatly preserved.

Aneele shivered. It was almost bad enough to make her old fear of spiders come back.

From what he knew, Quarrel had told her that the spider was relocated to the tunnels beneath the Keep. She had become an excellent guard for the supposed secret entrance into the castle from below. Khelgar's idea most likely. Only a dwarf would take such drastic and unorthodox protection of tunnels into account. She had to get out of Keep's grounds to reach the tunnels but it was better than trying to figure out how to pass the guards at the entrance of the castle itself.

She hurried past and stopped only when she picked up quiet chatter ahead. Feeling apprehensive – there was no telling if Kistrel remembered her even – she gathered a bit of magic in her hand, ready to release it if necessary. But even she wasn't prepared for quickness the spider could exhibit when defending her home. And so it was that Aneele found herself quickly and mercilessly pinned under one of eight strong fuzzy legs of a giant spider, sharp end barely missing her shoulder but punching a hole through her cloak. Wicked fangs sprouted from spider's mouth. Aneele could even detect venom oozing from them.

"Kistrel!" She yelled trying to get the spider to hear her out, and at the same time trying not to burn her on instinct alone. "It's me, Ele'ena!"

It was strange for her to say that name out loud again but more importantly, it seemed to have worked, or at least made large creature pause. Her many large intelligent eyes watched her carefully. "You've made that nice cloak for me, remember?" Which King of Shadows thoroughly ripped to pieces – and there was no need to bring up that part – but it served her nicely up to that point.

The spider loosened her grip but didn't let go completely. She let out a low sound.

"Yes, I'm the annoying elf who used to climb on you." And that was, if she remembered correctly, a dare from Neeshka. She should have broken both of tiefling's arms.

Now that made the spider pause completely. And before she knew it, again, Aneele was surrounded by more fuzzy legs and more chirping. This time of happy sort. She was engulfed into a spidery version of a hug. Well, if nothing else, there was someone who was happy to see her back and alive.

"It's good to see you too," Aneele said to now slightly calmer spider raising her hand to brush small hairs above dark eyes. Kistrel was still excited to see her and stood closely to the elf chirping rapidly. Despite her large size she could act young and friendly to those she bonded close friendship with. "No, I wasn't planning to stay." The spider looked at her strangely, an expression she would almost compare to cocking her head. "Seasons change," Aneele said knowing that Kistrel's reasoning differed to that of people. Animals didn't try to force change. It was luck in itself that few understood her so she wouldn't be able to spread the gossip of seeing the Knight-Captain alive.

Kestrel chirped something bringing Aneele back from her thoughts.

"Is the way up still there?" She asked and the spider bobbing up and down guided her to the back of the tunnel and pointed at the narrow and uneven stone-made staircase leading up to the basement. Jerro used to have his summoning circle there, and Mephasm was a regular guest.

"Thank you," she said to the spider and with a whispered word turned herself invisible.

She slipped though the narrow passage and emerged behind many crates and barrels. With no warlock around there was no need for the summoning circle and this place was turned into storage. A logical way to conceal the secret passage. As if the giant spider guarding it wasn't enough.

Moving between the boxes she opened the door a little to see if guards were about. While none were stationed directly near the basement, as she moved up she noticed that only a few were patrolling along the halls. Avoiding them and with many doors left unlocked for the guards to move around feely, she climbed to the top floors where many best rooms – hers included – were located.

It all went so smooth, too smooth, Aneele almost wondered why the security so far seemed so lacking. The guardsmen were sparse, especially on upper floors, and she had not detected any traps, magical or otherwise, and no other guards other than human – not even a laic mage among them. And she, an untrained individual in sneaking and hiding, was moving right in front of their noses with the help of a minor spell. Unbelievable! It truly appeared that after that war ended nothing gave them concern enough to tighten their defenses. And to think she had went into panic to get the Keep as protected as possible. She had grown gray hairs over nothing.

Shaking her head she rounded the corner, despite her invisibility still keeping tightly to the shadows, and the soundless sight before her made her jump back and press against the wall. There was someone before her door. Kneeling at her door. Trying to force her door open and break into her old room. Such coincidence!

She watched the figure, dressed in light-soaking black, try a few moments with one tool before switching to another. She observed quietly unsure what to do now. Apparently she made a noise of some sort as the thief's head snapped up and in her direction. While she was certain she was still concealed the thief obviously had enough experience, or possessed a magical contraption or two, to know someone was present. He, if body structure told her anything, quickly pulled out a dagger from his belt and stepped back before lunging forward, his maneuvers incredibly quick and precise.

Whether he planned to leave any corpses behind on this job she couldn't tell but competition was obviously out of the question. So she dodged – and how he knew where her head was while she was still concealed she didn't know – body instinctively pulling into defensive position and with no weapons at hand, magic dancing at the tip of her fingers was her only defense.

Quickly, she engulfed the corridor into impenetrable darkness – the light from the torches left and right from the door loosing their substance as the magic ate it away. Aneele dared not cast a stronger spell for fear of her concealment falling apart and pushing her eye-patch to the side she endured with stinging sensation in order to see her opponent. This time her left arm would be her weapon.

Even in magical darkness he moved quickly – a telltale sign that he could make some distinction – and to her surprise, his dagger slashed clearly across her outstretched boney arm. On that place fortunately she felt nothing and no poison could work. Using the opportunity of his closeness combined with his near blindness her left hand landed squarely on his chest and released the force slamming him against the wall with a painful 'crack' and a muffled screech of agony, his muscles convulsing and twisting on itself. This minor spell wasn't meant to be deadly and he seemed to have some resistance as he picked himself up, one side of him hanging limply.

He calculated the situation – the unseen opponent who wielded strong magic and was probably after same thing he was – and the number of his options dropped quickly. With something of a glare he quickly rushed to the window and jumped over.

Aneele followed to look through. She couldn't imagine there being a rope since the archers would have filled him with arrows before he could even reached this window. And she was correct on that account. There was no rope. And no sign of burglar either.

Magic again no doubt, she sighed. Magic seemed to get involved into everything it seemed.

Turning around she had to act quickly should the guards have heard their scuffle.

Renewing her invisibility spell just in case, she neared the door of her old room. She could see small scratch marks around the lock – signs of an attempted burglary. That bard didn't lie when he said that some people have tried to get to her journal – which bordered on insipid stupidity. If Silver Sword had been locked in there she might have understood but to hire a professional thief for a diary? Isn't Fearun filled with buried treasures every few miles or so?

Aneele shook her head. Adventurers, treasure hunters… she would never understand people with that kind of mindset.

In any case, she had arrived just in time to be rid of her past.

Reaching over she fingered along the edge of the door for the familiar surface of a not-so-loose stone. She remembered being so paranoid she had left the key behind in the most obvious place possible – no sense loosing it in the middle of the undead-covered battlefield. Last time she did this she needed a small pickaxe and a chisel to get the stone out, now her unfortunate – and she had begun to think of it with sarcasm, arm would do just fine.

Hidden behind in a small hole was a cloth holding the key. Finely crafted and, naturally, magical. Sand made it himself, she recalled.

She was actually shaking a little as she unlocked the door. No sound came from the lock or the hinges but she still looked around in fear before stepping in. Her rooms, a small apartment really, did not bring any nostalgic feelings though it did bring plenty of memories. And as far as Aneele was concerned they were not pleasant either.

The bed was made and covered and dust. Her old clothes, and she should really stop think in that way since it hasn't been that long ago, were in drawers and armories. All neatly stacked and full of dust, cobwebs even. Not trying to get trapped in reminiscence she walked over to her writing table quickly. Looking though unused papers and ink – she hadn't been the one to write official letters – she dug for small leather-bound notebook. She sighed in relief when her fingers closed over it. It looked untouched.

She still couldn't comprehend why anyone would be interested in drivel scribbled in it but she guessed some collectors probably had gold to burn and didn't care what they had on their shelves so long as no one else did. Storing it away she quickly looked around. As far as she could tell she had not disturbed anything else in the room. Making sure she was concealed in magic she left and locked the room behind her – just in time too because her ears picked up quickened footsteps of armored feet against the stone coming towards her.

It was the worst possible time for the guards to suddenly become attentive.

With a hasty breath and on a pure reflex born of both her skittish nature and time spent in Shadow Plane she summoned a spell she read about but had never used. In a moment where she stood a second ago now was a ghostly apparition while Aneele, in the meantime, tried to gain her footing in the slippery mud made of daily garbage and feces behind the Phoenix Tail inn, curses flying left and right.

She had not even noticed that the key had landed in her pocket.

--- * * * ---


End file.
